


do not leave me

by peternureyev



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Melkor, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sort Of Fluff, angbang, from a tumblr prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 14:12:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3653382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peternureyev/pseuds/peternureyev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mairon's fate hangs by a thread.</p>
            </blockquote>





	do not leave me

Mairon lies on his back. The blood drips steadily down his cheek. It soaks his brow, covering his golden hair. The right side of his face is so marred and cut that even Melkor can barely recognise it, a mass of gory scratches and slashes seeping bright blood, exposed flesh mangled and maimed. And his eyes...one is gouged out, a bloody, gruesome mess surrounding the dark socket. The other half closed, red-yellow irises shining with tears, dark eyelashes fluttering. The red dye that usually frames his eyes is smeared with blood and dirt, the cosmetic fading into filthy skin.

It makes Melkor furious just looking at his lieutenant. How could anyone do this, disfigure such a beautiful being? The fine, delicate features of Mairon's face are like a work of art, carefully sculpted out of white marble, chiselled cheekbones perfectly shaped. His mouth is a masterpiece in itself, the soft way it moves, whispering. Now his lips are stained and split. Master craftsmanship, destroyed.

It breaks Melkor's frozen heart to see him like this, broken and in pain. He leans over and takes Mairon’s small cold hand. _Why is he so cold? He is meant to be warm and fiery, not cold._ He rubs the limp fingers between his own ashen hands but cannot seem to restore their heat.

“Mairon? Wake up, Mairon,” he whispers to the comatose maia, clutching the hand to his chest.

Mairon groans and his eyes flicker, the only true sign that he is truly still living. Melkor grips the hand tighter, begging his lover to open his gentle mouth, wishing he would just say something, anything. But his wish is not granted. Mairon does not speak.

The tall, dark haired spirit lays his cold hand on Mairon’s mutilated face, willing it to heal. Melkor has not been able to heal anything since he turned again to evil, and besides, healing had never been his area of expertise anyway.

Mairon’s fate hangs by a thread.

“Oh you stupid, noble idiot,” Melkor murmurs tenderly. “You had to go out there…you just had to. I do not need you to defend my honour, for I have none…”

He crouches down and lightly strokes the blood-spattered neck, tucking a strand of stray hair behind his pointed ear. From this angle he can see the way Mairon’s chest heaves with every breath.

Melkor has not cried since Ungoliant attacked him, but now a tear tracks down his face. “Do not leave me, love. Your time should not be over yet.”

But now Mairon is not moving, he is still and he is broken, blood still draining from his multiple head wounds. Melkor throws his crown to the side, the Silmarils glinting as he casts them aside. He stands and stalks away, dark figure striking. _He is gone, and it is my fault. I did this, I sent him to his death. I did this to him!_

The Dark Lord, more powerful than any save one walks away from the body of his fallen lieutenant, struggling to compose himself and put aside the useless grief. _He was nothing to me, nothing to me, nothing to me. Do not let the loss of one worthless soldier hinder your purpose. I am waging war and in war people die._

As he storms towards the door, Melkor hears a quiet sound. The sound of tears.

He spins around, and Mairon’s eyes are wide open. Convulsive shudders wrack his whole body but he is _alive_.

Melkor runs back to the maia’s bedside. “I thought you had left me, you, you senseless child!”

Mairon is still injured, still disfigured, still missing an eye, but he is alive, and when he heals he will be able to shift form, put this broken body behind him. He smiles slightly, heat rushing back into his cold hands. “I would not leave you for anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> cherryandcheek on tumblr gave me the prompt for this one! (during a mission, Sauron gets rather badly wounded)  
> I know its terrible, sorry for my lack of ability to write anything...  
> Also I tried to give it a happy ending so pardon the kind of oocness of the end.


End file.
